White Doll
by Whyntir
Summary: "The doll felt the cold metal and instinctively recoiled away from the gun, tears springing into its eyes. It hated its situation, its unavoidable torture that came with living with a devil of a man. This was its own personal hell." Rated M for a reason!


**A/N: Something I worked on between blocks . . . yeah, I need to stop doing that -_-;;;**

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_His eyes roamed over the snowy white expanse of his doll that lay motionless, only supported by the bar that held fast its wrists that connected to slack hands. He knew it wasn't unconscious, though it wanted him to believe the show with all its might. What gave it away, as it did every time, were the constant tremors wracked the pale, gaunt frame. Its white legs shook under itself, they were red, as well as its delectable ass, from the riding crop he held in his hands. It was erect, despite how much it hated what was happening to it, precum beading at its head. He reached between the tremulous limbs and gripped the length roughly in his gloved hand, eliciting a loud moan of pain and pleasure into the cold night's air. The doll's face deepened in its shade of red._

"_You like this treatment? What a little slut you are," he giggled to himself as his fingers roamed the member and drawing out whimpers from the toy. He pulled away, just to show how evil he truly way. In response, it cried out reluctantly at the loss of stimulus, the blindfold, the beautiful shade of red, darkened at the eyes from tears._

"_You want to release my beautiful doll?" he asked tauntingly. It moaned pleadingly around the cloth gag he had stuffed between the delicate rosy lips, but now they were a shade of blue from the sheer cold of the country. He worried little, however, more ways to torture his doll that would never die._

_He made his way to the wall and returned with a Winchester's Rifle and smirked at the sadistic joke of his before placing the barrel of the gun at his doll's unprepared entrance. "If you really want it, use this."_

_The doll felt the cold metal and instinctively recoiled away from the gun, tears springing into its eyes. It hated its situation, its unavoidable torture that came with living with a devil of a man. This was its own personal hell that it could never flee._

_Impatient with the shivering doll, he positioned the rifle himself and thrust it into the tight entrance. His doll screamed, but was smothered by the cloth. It enticed him with how tight that hole was, how strong those muscles clenched around the gun. They were so taunt, its ass and legs shook even more from the force. Regardless of his doll's feelings, he pulled the rifle out to the tip and thrust in back in. It wasn't long until it was covered in the beautiful scarlet of blood, and the doll, so addicted to the pleasure of agony, came with and arched back and tearstained face. He wasn't done though. Oh-no, he was nowhere near done yet._

* * *

Ivan smiled during the meeting, the same childish smile he always wore. He sat with a straight back, a man used to old chairs made by hand in such a manner, with his hands clasped on the table before of him. His violet eyes shined brightly in the light as he watched the speaker intently. This time it was Germany, who was so serious about everything. No one really paid him much mind, America was whispering to Japan and hiding laughter behind his hand to keep from bursting out in his obnoxious glee. Feliciano was drawing beside him. The little Italian was so cute, and a wonderful artist to boot. Ivan was glad they were friends, even if they didn't talk much. Oh well, they were still friends right? He looked to his hands, but the perpetual smile remained. He glanced up across from himself, Lithuania sat, talking with Poland. The green eyes flickered to him, feeling the gaze of his violet eyes. Russia immediately dropped his gaze again, the smile permanent on his face.

* * *

_He couldn't fix it now. It was no use to insist that no one saw the fear. No one saw the pain that pooled into those beautiful eyes that pleaded for saving. He would be punished again, but if he could stay with someone, anyone he would be safe until they got home. Then again, if it was done here, it would be safer. No whips and chains . . . or guns . . . he could probably get it over with here and now. He had no choice then, he'd be punished during the break._

* * *

Break came around and Toris stood hesitantly, smiling and chatting with Feliks, but insisting he had something _bigger_ to attend to.

"It isn't, like, you know," the Pole asked, nodding to Ivan who was standing and waiting for the other, the scarf covering his lower face, making his expressions unreadable.

He nodded, "Afraid it is. Don't worry. He can't do anything in an hour's time, and if he did something violent, everyone would know." Reluctantly, the blond left his friend to his works.

* * *

_The doll was slammed against the wall, tears threatening its eyes._

"_What the fuck do you think you're doing looking at me that way you bitch!" he demanded, fisting its jacket roughly._

_The doll closed its beautifully orbs of light, its hands shielding its face, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to look at you, I just glanced up, I swear."_

"_You lying little bitch!" he snarled, jerking it forward and against the wall even harder, "You've been told time and time again to look at no one but the speaker! I can't have you talking or looking around! You're just begging for someone to pay mind to you, aren't you! No one cares about you! No one! You'll be mine, with me, forever!"_

Forever.

_The doll was pushed to its knees in front of the master's vital regions. Its face reddened as he undid his pants and pulled out the half-hard member, forcing the length into its mouth. It shed tears as it sucked the dick, fingers wound their way into its hair, guiding it gently but not fooling. Once the length was hard and pulsating in its mouth, his true nature revealed itself as he pulled the doll closer, making it gag on the member. That did little to deter him, however, and he began thrusting its head forcefully. It wasn't much longer until the salty liquids gushed down its throat, making it retch and choke._

_He pulled himself back into his pants and fisted the doll's hair, snapping its head up, "Go clean up your face."_

_And it dragged itself away to do as it was told. No one knew, no one could know a thing of what happened, but it wasn't like they would care._

* * *

Ivan smiled brightly, watching Germany intently as he concluded the meeting. His violet eyes never wandered, the smile never fell. He wanted to die. He wished for it, begged for it even. But Dolls didn't have wishes, isn't that right?

And he was Toris' White Doll.

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**A/N: I'm gonna leave it this lil oneshot unless enough people ask me to continue it. I could, but yeah. Gonna have to pick a month for it. Anyway, criticisms? Reviews? Worship? Jkjk XD Thanks for reading this little thing.**


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